


i bet on losing dogs

by idontknowhowtoread (heatherpotts)



Category: PBG Hardcore
Genre: Crushes, Feelings Are Confusing, M/M, Unrequited Love, also im still working on beyond the sea!! my motivation has just been kinda off lately, also. vaguely mind control?, and im sad so. here yall can have this instead. but i promise im working on it, basically. inspired by 17776 and bitches be immortal. itll make more sense hopefully, dean sweetie im so sorry, hardcore is my emotional support minecraft series and im sad as fuck!!, spoilers for like. every season honestly watch out, therefore i will never stop!!, this doesnt even have a real plot just sadness, this has the same kinda world setup as theoretically. not the same universe ofc but.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 06:07:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19717756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherpotts/pseuds/idontknowhowtoread
Summary: Hardcore isn't exactly the best place to find love, but that's never stopped Dean.He wishes it would.





	i bet on losing dogs

**Author's Note:**

> this is big inspired by I bet on losing dogs by mitski, I listened to it first thing this morning and I was like oh fuck!! and wrote this
> 
> also disclaimer that's generally known but just in case, this in no way reflects the actions and personalities of the real people this is based on. especially not dean bc that's literally just me. but also if anyone from hardcore is reading this. please don't this fic will probably stomp you to death before I even get the chance to, and its really sad so then just everyone involved is just sad and uncomfortable so. yeah
> 
> ok mitski time

After all the seasons he had been through, Dean had realized that he had a really bad habit of falling in love.

It had to be _something_ about the conditions of the game, the life or death extremes and the bond that desperately trying to survive can form. Serious and _seriously_ painful, yet strangely fun at times. At the end of the day, it was all a show. Even if it felt real, it was all a game.

It was no surprise that Dean always made a show of himself. Even if it was all a show, regardless of how real it felt, this game was never any place for love. 

Outside of the game, the universe was an expanse of empty space, numb and unchanging, _undying_ , so it's no wonder why Dean stayed there. It's the only place where he could actually _feel_ , physical and emotional, although who's really to say the... _validity_ of those emotions.

Maybe it was something about the game, pulling on his heartstrings like he was nothing but a puppet. Maybe it was all for the show, maybe it was all some cruel joke Todd and whoever else controlled the game were playing on him, but those feelings never really subsided after the seasons progressed.

He couldn't remember what life he had before this... _weird, immortality thing_ happened, that destroyed his planet and set him off aimlessly wandering through space and searching for any _feeling_ at all. He was lucky to find this place, but he now questioned just how _good_ it was for him.

At some point, he started down a path of so much artificial emotion and heartbreak that it brought him full circle, all the way back around to numbness.

It started with Mcjones, he knew all along. This was all a show, a story amassing all its tropes and hidden meanings, and Mcjones was his perfect foil; the professor, the one who actually knew what he was doing, the stoic, rational leader that was going to make sure they won with as many survivors as possible. A perfect contrast to Dean's fiery recklessness, his loud inclination towards panicking, his brash way of both fighting and flirting, always exasperating his foil. 

In a way, they were comparable to fire and water. Mcjones, cool and practiced in everything he did, certainly capable of ruthless anger and indignation, but more often than not, careful and almost _gentle;_ and Dean, hotheaded and reckless, certainly bright and warm to the guests he quickly befriended, but with a tendency of consuming everything in sight. 

There was a delicate balance to it, one that was broken more often than not, but when it actually held, it elicited a feeling that Dean hadn't felt in... _whatever vague study of time_ could describe how long it had been since he became immortal, and one that he was never prepared for. 

He recalled moments of balance like the nights they actually slept, huddled up in the corner of their home where they _at least hoped_ nobody would notice them, wrapped up in each others warmth. Light conversation over grassy sunlit fields and in the kitchen, over pork chops and chicken and whatever food they could find. In the mines, when it was mind numbing and _fucking excruciating,_ so talking to each other was all they had. When the fear of death wasn't an important factor.

Death, that was definitely the quickest way of throwing off their balance. Of course, when one of them died, it was never easy. It was usually Dean dying first, but the _one time_ Mcjones died first _utterly crushed him_. Seeing his grave, loose dirt holding the little they had to actually bury, and heat warped glasses on top of the cross, _knowing_ it was a sight that Mcjones had been suffering through for seasons, _fucking wrecked him._

It was Dodger, their newest guest, who comforted him that night. She was kind and knew just what to say, but he couldn't help wishing it was Mcjones saying those things to him for _once_. He had to force himself to bounce back, but when they had the chance to bring _him_ back and _didn't_ , _rightfully_ choosing to bring back Dodger, who'd died just outside of their home after bringing back the totem, all it did was bring up more emotions he never could have been ready for. By some miracle, he won that season, but he never really found out if Mcjones was proud, or if he was just _bitter_. 

And of course, when the tensions rose and people started dying off other than them; Mcjones had a way of being passive aggressive and doubtful of others, even _blaming_ , and Dean had a way of cracking under the pressure, spewing embers and licks of flame. 

Mcjones was never all that good at being comforting. His idea of comfort was his rationality, his precious logical reality and lack of any actual emotional support. Maybe they were perfect for each other trope-wise, in the game itself, but Mcjones never truly understood Dean's feelings.

He had meant to tell Mcjones at some point, in an intricately planned out way that wouldn't let him chicken out and no-homo it. He knew the scenario was incredibly unrealistic, but he found himself fantasizing about beating the Ender Dragon with him, just _once_. 

Her body would rise into the air and explode into a cloud of smoke and little twinkling green orbs of knowledge, and Dean would stand in awe for a moment before rushing to the side of his real prize, battle torn and catching his breath, but _oh so beautifully alive_. Dean would steady him, a hand on Mcjones' shoulder, and Mcjones would look up at him, smiling.

He'd say _"We did it,"_ and Dean would take his hand and say _"I love you."_ Mcjones would say _"I love you too,"_ and all the spirits would scream for them to _"Just get a room!"_ And then he would kiss him, underneath a sky of endless void and vaguely star shaped glimmers, and they would both lose their breath all over again.

That perfect scenario never came in time, and the fear of drowning, rather ironically, kept him silent.

Then Mcjones left. Dean didn't know where Mcjones thought he was going, if he was running away or if he had just gotten bored. He still had no idea where the guests came from and went after their seasons, he had never bothered to ask, and nobody had ever thought to tell him. He was doubtful of really _anything_ existing that wasn't lightyears away, and he was much too scared to leave on his own.

He should have asked Mcjones if he could go with him, but that wouldn't have been nearly as easy to brush off as _just a friend thing._ If he knew, maybe he would have rejected him completely, in front of everyone. If Mcjones wasn't so emotionally constipated himself, he probably would have caught onto Dean's feelings from day one, and Dean wasn't sure how to feel about that.

It was something difficult to admit to himself, but he _at least_ got a little better at saying it after Mcjones left. He loved him. Entirely homo, entirely real, persisting even outside of the game where the vast emptiness of space should have suffocated his emotions. He loved him, and he was gone.

Throwing himself back into the game, after a brief emotional coma that made him sit out one season, was really his best way of coping. Out of his two options, anyway.

But it was inevitable; the game, the show, the puppet masters playing with his heart would bring all those feelings rushing back. He half-wished he could have just been like a grieving widow, if he could wear all black and solemnly swear to never love again, unless some great glory of God could bring his love back to him.

But, no. Even when Mcjones was there, maybe a part of him knew he would never truly have him, and other, smaller seeds of love were sown.

Maybe that was his problem; he was too ambitious with love, too quick, too suffocating. He didn't have to swear off love, as if he ever could, he just had to love some littler things, be a little more gentle, focus on _himself_ first.

This place had never been a place for love, but somehow the issue always came back up, again and again. Jeff and Austin, who had somehow gotten together quickly after Jeff had joined the cast and seemed quite literally _married_ , seemed to be the only exception thus far.

It was fine. Dean was happy for them. They had both been through just as much as the rest of them, and they deserved a little break.

But... Dean couldn't deny that he envied them. And that he saw a bit of Mcjones in his brother whenever he laughed, and that he saw himself in the way Jeff looked at Austin, as how he looked at Mcjones. He wanted a love like that, and the fact that it could even exist here had to be an anomaly. They both had a fair amount of power in controlling the game itself, so they must have manipulated something. It had to be that they were at least partially exempt from the obstacles of this world and the system itself, whatever was controlling Dean that made him feel the way he always did.

He didn't have the time or the energy for envying. Loving the littler things wasn't so bad, until they blossomed into feelings that Dean yet again, after all this time, still felt the need to hide from.

He started feeling some... _things_ for Barry early on, even when he was all head over heels for Mcjones. Back when Barry actually survived to the end of the season more often, it was easier for Dean to notice him. He reminded him of Mcjones in a couple ways, being cool and quiet, rational, a _total fucking badass._ Even more than Mcjones, he was like snow and ice, light and just cold enough to be perfect, honestly _gorgeous_ behind those sunglasses of his. Even if he was quieter and tended to get lost in the uproar, Dean always had a little section of his heart devoted to him. 

Although, even despite their history and Dean's very obvious admiration of him, he doubted his feelings for Barry more than any other. More than Mcjones, more than anyone.

Because something happened during their second season ever, that turned the fuzzy peacefulness of being a ghost in this world into sharp, painful, overwhelming replays of his most vulnerable moments through what sounded like a broken speaker. 

He was dead, and then he was a sword. And being a sword _fucking sucked,_ because all the pain of physical death and emotional realizations of love came down at all once, like a glitch in the system, a situation where he could only scream through the replays of the things he had said before he died, until Barry himself died.

He didn't know much for sure, but his feelings for Barry were definitely amplified in that moment. Maybe they were never real at all. Maybe the puppet masters were in his head, sending all the chemicals to his brain that were best suited for the show, that he was an agent of chaos and disorderly confession, and none of his feelings ever meant anything at all.

He had no idea how to confront that issue, the fear becoming the only thing that could truly silence him. And so, he kept loving in silence.

His feelings for Barry were pushed to the side somewhat, and he found himself falling for Ray.

Ray was the only crush thus far who was actually somewhat emotionally adept, which was a welcome change of pace, except for the fact that it forced Dean to confront his feelings much quicker. Dean seemed to have a type, that being coolheaded, rational players who were a lot smarter than him. Ray was definitely that, but he and Dean shared a trait that neither of the former did; an eye for romance.

Ray wasn't nearly as bluntly flirtatious as Dean, at least not with the same intent, but he was a lot softer with how he expressed himself. He spoke calmly, in that low, almost sultry tone that many of his crushes shared, and he moved lightly whenever he wasn't caught in some sort of fight, almost like a dance; and whenever he caught Dean looking, his big brown eyes would grow a little bit warmer, and he'd smile. Just about _everything_ he did was gentle, sweet, not unlike the flower he always kept with him for no good reason.

Romantic, like him. Dean couldn't say he didn't fantasize about Ray coming to him in the night, maybe after they'd won, and he would give Dean the rose and cradle Dean's hands in his, confessing and smiling that same gorgeous smile, engulfing them in petals and the sweet scent of feelings resolved. Maybe that was why he always held onto the flower. Or maybe he... just liked flowers.

Dean knew it was the latter, but he never claimed to be rational about these things.

At the end of the day, Ray was only a guest. Like a flower, as the seasons changed and the wind pulled off his petals, he was gone too soon. Maybe he'd be back someday, but seemingly like everyone Dean cared about in this game, they disappeared.

Luke was Dean's first _new_ crush after Mcjones left, even though he knew him before. Seemingly, the game decided it was finally right, and unloaded all the emotion onto Dean once more.

Another nice little quirk with the system, the game just so decided to make season seven a repeat of season five, following the order of death and coming down to another crushing defeat.

Except for the fact that Mcjones was gone, Luke taking his place. Dean thought he might just be latching onto him in Mcjones' absence, but the game at least _wanted_ him to believe it was more than that. And so, he did.

Luke wasn't exactly as knowledgeable as the others, but he was determined and patient, doing everything he could to help. For once, Dean was the one explaining things to him, which was incredibly strange but not an unwelcome change. He still sought escape, a way of moving on, and taking on a whole new role seemed like the perfect opportunity.

Except, of course, it didn't. They were doomed from the start, to be caught in this cycle yet again. He was doomed to fall in love all over again, with the sky blue of Luke's eyes and his smile that was brighter than the sun, the way he unnecessarily carried all _his random shit_ like stairs and glass into danger, just in case they needed it. The way he bonded with Jeff over the mutual desire to just make things pretty, mirroring himself in his surroundings. Dean saw himself yet again in the parallels, and he desperately wanted for the trope to come true, to mirror Austin this time, as the brave adventurers who came home to their loving, detail oriented home makers, if there was any chance at all he could end up with Luke.

His feelings liked to manifest in metaphors, so it would seem. And the one most suited for Luke seemed to be the sky. Reflected in his eyes, in his sunrises and sunsets making everything so much prettier, his voice a lot like the wind, talented and versatile, gentle and beautiful. All expansive, surrounding, protective. And when he died, even when Dean was limited to only watching as a ghost, he could see it on all of their faces; as if the stars had simply disappeared.

Dean was reaching his breaking point, as love after love was squandered and disappeared from him before he gave himself the chance to claim it. He didn't know who to blame, if it was himself or if the game was somehow getting into his head and making him fall in love only when it was most convenient, most painful. If he was getting paranoid, or just desperate, he had no idea anymore. At this point, he just wanted _anyone_ to talk to him, he would settle for honestly _anyone_ to just sit him down and tell him that _he is loved._

_Anyone_. 

But so many of them were gone. Dodger, who was so kind and intuitive, was gone. Lucah, who was like an older sister and was so encouraging and open, was _gone_ , and Dean just couldn't bring himself to talk to Austin or Jeff about it. Out of the game, all he had was isolation, in this stupid, tacky hotel room that had no real purpose other than being a holding cell. All he had was himself, the one person he lacked _any_ control over.

Maybe it really was all his fault. He was a fire, and he had evaporated and burned everything in his path, suffocating the sky with smoke. He didn't know if the game had made him this way, or if he had always been like _this_ , but the situation itself was confining and undeniable.

At this point, all he had left were questions, not even a glimpse of a way out. If he was really so _desperate_ and _lonely_ , he should have fallen for Dodger. She was incredible, and funny, and they got along _super well_ , except maybe for the fact that she creeped him the hell out when she came back from the dead; and that she only reminded him of _Mcjones_ after that, and it probably mostly had to do with the fact that he didn't like girls. Or maybe the game wouldn't _let him_ like girls. He had no idea anymore.

He could have seen himself with Chad too, from that same season. They were similarly loud and energetic, and Chad was cute, he couldn't deny that. He and Barry were the same zodiac sign, _Sagittarius,_ and Dean had no idea why he was holding onto that knowledge, but he was. And yet again, Chad was gone, another potential lover not even _close_ to being realized in time. At this point, he was one more heartbreak away from going _full on Stockholm syndrome_ and falling in love with _Todd._

He, _really_ , had _no idea_ anymore. Maybe at some point, he'd be forced to leave this place, by his own emotions or otherwise. Maybe this game would finally take a little pity and just give him _a fucking boyfriend_ , maybe just for the season, or maybe he would never _ever_ catch a break. Maybe one day, his brain will just break, and he'll forget how to cry and how to feel, what love _even is_ , and he'd never even try to get it back.

Just like how he was the first time he played this game, he was scared and confused, nervously excited, _clueless._

He didn't feel excited anymore, though. Maybe he did in the moment, but not here, not alone. He felt only burned out and numb. Maybe Mcjones was dealing with something similar, and Dean couldn't say he blamed him if that was why he really left.

All he knew for sure was regardless of appearances, regardless of how Jeff and Austin's example seemed and how much this game got into his head;

Hardcore was never any place for love.


End file.
